


You Leave me Unfulfilled

by wellthizizdeprezzing



Series: Overwatch University One Shots [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Complicated Relationships, F/F, Infidelity, Shame kink, Smut, University AU, Unresolved Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25466950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthizizdeprezzing/pseuds/wellthizizdeprezzing
Summary: A sordid past between two lab partners is revealed, which puts into question the future development of the current relationship one of them is in. Moicy with current Pharmercy. Part of the Overwatch University AU.
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: Overwatch University One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844698
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	You Leave me Unfulfilled

The lab is quiet at this time of the night. Mostly because the lab students have gone home, tired from the days research. The only sounds are the hum of fridges left turned on to cool the bio-hazards and the bubbling of tubes and vials connected to a network of beakers and containers filled with mysterious concoctions.

The lab is dim too, the over head lights off, and only the small glow of bright greens and reds on computer devices interspersing the gray interior. Angela's shoes echoed loudly through the rooms as she passed from one to the other, finding the room she needed.

She found that one or two table lamps were on, casting their warm glow on the papers strewn about on the table. She wondered who would be here so late on a Friday night. She knew many researchers were only doing this for class credit and none of them would spend a Friday night willingly enveloped in tedious work.

 _She_ must be here, and Angela's heart skips a beat as that familiar feeling of hurt and something else mix inside her chest. She feels the urge to grasp at the pain as if her hand could sink through her chest and wretch it out. But she knows human anatomy well, and it's not possible.

Not yet, at least.

She'll be quick. She just needs to get her notes so she can work on them diligently over the weekend. Fareeha always grumbles about Angela being so busy all the time, but Angela simply loves her work, especially because she knows it could do so much good for the people who really need it. And what can Angela say. She loves helping others, and caring for them.

It is how she and Fareeha met, after all, and if not for that, they wouldn't be together as of now. Fareeha was a warm and caring person. She was understanding and she didn't push. Despite her own busy schedule she always made time for Angela. Making her coffee when she saw Angela's tired head bobbing over the countless texts in front of her, bringing her warm meals when she was too busy to make her own, or even coming to pick her up from the lab.

She was everything Angela should want in a person, and yet, Angela felt like something was missing. Was it because Angela was broken? After all, who could have Fareeha and ever be dissatisfied with her?

A buzz in Angela's pocket pulls her out of her thoughts and she pulls the phone out of her pocket and checks her notifications. It's from Fareeha.

**Hey, are you still at the lab?**

**Yes** , Angela texts back. **I only came back for my notes. I won't be long.**

**Should I wait for you outside the building? Basketball practice is over, and I want to see you :)**

Angela's heart flutters at this. **Of course. I'll be there soon.** The message is sent off with a whoosh and then Angela pockets her phone into her back pocket.

Her eyes are drawn to the papers under the light lamp. There's some writing on it, and the words are familiar. They are all written in a hasty practically illegible scrawl and she touches the paper with the tip of her fingers, as if she could gleam something from the touch. Is _she_ still doing the same research? The one Angela had warned her off from doing?

Angela draws her hand away. No, this is none of her business. _She_ is none of her business anymore. It's better this way.

Angela comes to the back of the lab where the cabinets are full of lab reports, findings, papers and other written information. She opens the cabinet and goes to her manila folder. She has several of them, dedicated to her name given the massive amounts of research she has complied. She flips through the thick stack, finds the folder she's been looking for and searches through it until she gets the papers she needs. She replaces everything and closes the cabinet with a gentle shut before putting the papers into the tote bag over her shoulder. She adjusts the straps and leaves the room, hurrying to the door when a voice stops her.

“Angela, long time no see.”

Angela freezes, her heart galloping in her chest like a wild beast. Her breath grows shaky, her hand stiffens on her bag strap.

“It's almost like you've been....avoiding me,” the voice adds on, as a figure slinks from the shadows of the lab, leaning away from the wall they'd been relaxed upon. Angela swallows and steels herself. She had been hoping to avoid this, but perhaps it had been unavoidable, much like their first collision, their first meeting into each other, had been. She turns on her heel and offers a practiced smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

“Hello, Moira.” She is satisfied her voice is even. Her heart rate is not.

Moira looks the same as always. She is clad in that lab coat of hers that is practically a second skin given how she's always donned it. Underneath she has a shirt with a tie on, ever the consummate professional. Her red hair is bright even in the dusk, and slicked back, a strand hanging over her eyes. Hetero-chromatic eyes that Angela has seen imprinted in her dreams many times. And that smile, that damned smug smile on her lips like she has seen through Angela and knows all her secrets.

She has her hands clasped behind her back, and in this stance, she towers, over Angela. Always towers over her. Angela swallows, throat gone dry.

“So, are you going to answer my question?” Moira poises quizzically, brow arched up.

“I don't have to answer you and you know that,” is the snapped reply. Damn it, she hadn't meant to snap but she couldn't help it. She wanted to run away. She didn't want to have this conversation. But her body wouldn't move, transfixed to the sight of the tall woman in front of her.

“Then I can answer it for you,” comes the confident and quick reply. “You've very clearly changed your hours to work around my schedule so when I am here, you never are. When we do spot each on campus, you make the effort of avoiding my eyes and going the other direction. You don't talk to me, and when I come up in conversation with others, you don't comment and let the topic slide.”

Angela was trying to avoid Moira, but it was a given. Not a surprise considering all that happened. Her hands balled into fists by her side. “Oh, so am I expected to act like nothing happened, like you did?” she shoots back.

Moira arches both her brows up now. “You were the one who ended things.”

“And I would do it again. And again. Because what you are doing is wrong and I can't believe someone I lo-liked could do such a thing. Could enable it!” Angela almost stumbles under the weight of her true emotions. She hopes Moira doesn't catch her mistake but she does and it's only hurtful the way Moira's cruel smile grows.

“Love me? Why, doctor,” the moniker here is used mockingly, “I never knew you felt this strongly about me.” She takes a step or two forward. Angela glares her down.

“I hate you more now,” she spits out, blood rushing through her veins. She couldn't believe she had ever given her heart to such a person. But she had and it had only backfired. Moira seemed to feel no remorse from it. Before either of them can respond, Angela's phone buzzes in her back pocket. It's a text from Fareeha no doubt. She pulls it out and it is. **Hey, where are you? It's getting late.**

Conversation with Moira, if it can be called that, is taking a long time. Angela needs to go.

“Is that the pup?” Moira asks and she's slinked forward quietly in the time Angela was looking at her phone. She's too close and it makes Angela nearly jump. Instead she walks backwards and her back hits the counter. Moira continues moving forward, until she and Angela are but a foot apart.

“Don't call her that,” Angela grits out, annoyed. It was one thing for Moira to be rude to Angela but Fareeha never deserved it. She was a good person.

“But isn't that what she is? She wags her tail and follows whatever you tell her to do.”

“She does not!” Angela was getting riled up by the nonchalance Moira exhumed.

“I bet you like that. You get off on it, don't you. Having her at your every beck and call. How does it feel to be on top for once?” she says, her voice suddenly going lower and huskier. Angela swallows nervously. Her turtleneck feels too tight on her neck and she resists the urge to fiddle with it. Her hold on her phone tightens.

“I don't treat her that way. I treat her with respect. Something you know nothing about,” Angela retorted heatedly.

“Ah,” Moira clicks her tongue, not at all being fazed by Angela's anger. “But does it get you off the same way I could get you off?”

Angela flushes hotly at that question, suddenly feeling dizzy with the implications of it. How could Moira be so brazen as to ask something like this? How arrogant, to think that Angela would never be satisfied by anyone else. “How could you say something like that! She's sweet and caring, and we enjoy each other plenty of times in bed!” She wanted to defend her younger lover. Wanted to rub it into Moira's face that Angela was moving on, because she was! “I would get into the details, but I don't want you bursting a blood vessel from jealousy.”

“Ha! Jealousy!” Moira barked with laughter as if this was a truly absurd concept. “I'm not jealous. Because I know that you still need me.”

“What?” Angela blurts out, confused now as Moira closes the distance between them. Angela is forced to look up to see her sharp face, their chests touching.

Moira's smirk only intensifies when through the press of their chest, she can feel Angela's rapidly beating heart. She leans in to whisper this. “Only I can ever touch you the way you really like.”

Angela shudders at the implication of this. Shudders at the salacious whisper in her ear that carries maybe too much truth in it. “Stop that,” she hisses and pushes at Moira's shoulder to get her to back up but the woman barely budges, only moving back her mouth from near Angela's ear.

“You know it's true. You loved the way I derided you. The way I broke you down into nothing,” Her hand trails up to Angela's blonde ponytail and yanks on it hard, revealing Angela's neck, while her other hand tugs down the turtleneck. Angela gasps, one filled with pain and surprise. And then she gasps even harder when Moira sinks her teeth into the fleshy junction of Angela's neck causing Angela to drop the phone in her grasp. The gasp turns into a guttural moan that she can barely stifle as Moira presses down, adding more pressure on both the ponytail and neck before releasing both. Angela collapses against the counter behind her and probably would have been on the floor by now if Moira hadn't been so tightly pressed to her.

“Have fun being with your pup now that you have that mark. Each time you kiss her, or touch her, she won't know it's there. That I marked you right under her nose and that you bare my mark like this.”

Angela clamps a hand to the throbbing bite on her neck that her turtleneck covers for now. “Why are you like this,” she asks, tears in the corners of her eyes from the pain inflicted. She feels shaky and out of control. She's hurt Moira is acting like this. Teasing her. But she also hates herself even more right now because she's fucking aroused when she shouldn't be. It's like an electric charge through her body and it just excites her more that she doesn't know what Moira will do next.

She tries to fight it. She has to fight it. The phone at Angela's feet begins to buzz. Fareeha must be calling her. But she can't answer it right now. They both ignore it for now.

Moira chuckles and it is a dark sound that doesn't help Angela's current state.

“Because you and I both know no one else will be good enough for you. Or should I say, _bad_ enough for you. They don't know how rough you liked to be fucked,” a hand slips in between their hips, right in between Angela's thighs, grabbing her there hard. She jolts up at the sensation and bites her bottom lip, trying to stop the moan she wants to release from coming out as Moira continues to rub their possessively as if Angela is still hers.

“Everyone thinks you're so innocent Angela, so sweet and pure,” Moira coos into Angela's ear as she lowers her head there, giving the shell of it a lick. Angela shudders against her and her arms wrap around the taller woman's shoulders as her traitorous body reacts. “But I know the real you. And I know you're fucking dirty. You're messed up in the head, even more than me.” Somehow that mischievous hand has unbuttoned Angela's pants and slipped inside parting shamefully wet folds.

“Oh, what do we have here?” Moira hums, her hot breath on Angela's ear as the blonde's hips buck up of their own accord. “Wet for me already? Does the pup do such a bad job of taking care of you that you're so desperate like this?” Because Angela's hips haven't stopped bucking up and down, trying to get friction against the fingers right at her entrance.

“Fuck,” Angela swears under her breath because she's lost control of her body. Her cheeks are flushed in disgrace and she bites her bottom lip. She needs to stop this. But her body won't listen to her.

“Mhm, such a dirty fucking mouth,” Moira murmurs in approval. “I did so love it when you begged me to fuck you like a common whore.”

Angela flushes in even more disgrace but can't stop the way her leg hooks around Moira's hip, trying to create more space for her hand to work with. She's already so worked up from the combination of Moira' s words and her touch and she wants to combust. “Shut up,” she growls out breathlessly, trying to fuck herself against Moira's fingers which are still immobile against her.

“Maybe if you ask me nicely I'll do the same for you.”

“Fuck off,” she hisses back and Moira tsks at this in reprimand. The phone on the floor buzzes again and Angela almost has forgotten it's her phone making the noise. “Ah the poor pup must be lonely. You should go entertain her.”

“Leave her out of this-”

“You said she could fuck you good. Maybe you don't need me-” Moira makes to remove her hand and Angela knows, she knows, that if she caves now, Moira has won. She would let Moira go, let her draw back. Angela can button up her pants and go back to Fareeha, pretend like nothing has happened because that thin line has not yet been crossed. But her body betrays her again as her hand goes to clamp down on Moira's wrist. She shocks herself with her own action and lets go of the wrist a second later. But it's too late. She's played too obvious of a hand.

Moira grins, that damn confident grin of hers that used to drive Angela up the wall, both literally and figuratively. It would either be a precursor to an argument, or to hot sex against the wall.

“Wait, no- I didn't mean to-” Angela's panicked protests are cut off when she moans loudly, as Moira finally roughly enters her. Angela would have doubled over in surprise and explosion of ecstasy if she could but Moira was all over her, holding her tightly between her own body and the counter. Her fingers moved unapologetically inside Angela, roughly hitting her at every angle. It hurt, and yet it hurt so good. Angela couldn't stop another moan from coming outside her mouth as every nerve felt alive inside her, screaming for Moira to finish the job. Her pants had slide down her thighs at this point, leaving her even more open for the taller woman. Her legs quake and wetness coats the inside of them, more quickly being drawn out.

“It's a shame no one is around to watch this. Watch me take you out in the open, in a lab no less,” Moira spoke, her voice like silk and yet so sinful. “Don't you know how important it is to keep this place clean and you're just getting all over the place Angela, because you're so fucking wet.”

Angela's only response to that is to breathe harder, high pitched in the back of her mouth. Her sight is going blurry. She can barely think, barely see. Fuck she's going to come so hard and she knows it. Knows it and hates and loves the fact at the same time. Tears begin to stream down her face because damn it, she doesn't want to do this. She doesn't want it to feel so good. She should feel bad. Bad about what she's doing. And yet, she can't find a way to stop.

“Wouldn't it be shameful if the office found out what you were doing Angela? They'd have to discipline you for being so reckless,” the way Moira curls her tongue around the r has Angela recalling the way her tongue used to curl around her clit like that. So recklessly and impatiently. Like Moira didn't care if Angela broke. The words only make Angela quiver so hard she swears her insides will be tangled knots by the time she's done and they've only begun.

Moira changes the angle of her wrist into an even better one that has Angela groaning, eyes falling closed. “I hate you, I hate you,” Angela mutters like a mantra. One that if she says enough times will finally come true. She can feel her orgasm approaching with a furious wave and she can't stop it. It breaks on Moira's hand, flooding it with warm releases. Angela's muscle, tensed with the force of her orgasm finally relax and she can taste blood on her lip from how hard she clamped down to keep her pleasure quiet.

Moira pulls away from Angela who has to grasp onto the counter to stand up. She's still shaking and breathing hard. She tugs up her pants shamefully as Moira licks Angela clean off of her hand. “I'd really appreciate it if you stopped lying to yourself, Angela. You were never really good at it.” And with that Moira goes to wherever it was she came from.

Angela bends down to pick up her phone, and the bag she hadn't even noticed she'd dropped, when she hears a voice call her. For one second she thinks it's Moira come back for round two and her heart picks up again before she realizes the voice is too soft, too high pitched for that. It's Fareeha who comes in, wearing her practice uniform and with a dufflebag slung over her shoulder. She takes one look at Angela and her joy at seeing her girlfriend fades. “Um, are you okay?” she takes one look at the disheveled state Angela is in, along with the drying tear tracks on her face and wonders what happened.

Angela sniffles, feeling crushing guilt hit her like a truck. Fareeha, standing there and looking so clueless, not an idea that Angela has just cheated on her. She'll make it up to Fareeha, she promises. She'll treat her extra kindly today.

“Babe...” Fareeha trails off when Angela goes up to her and kisses her hard, trying to memorize the feel and taste of her lips. These lips are so much kinder. They don't hurt her like Moira's do. “I just ran into my ex, is all,” she responds with, shifting her eyes away once she finishes the kiss. She'll need more of them to fix this damage inside her. To fix the damage Angela has given this just burgeoning relationship.

“Oh, is that why you're crying?” Fareeha asks, cupping Angela's cheek sweetly. Angela hopes Moira is watching this, so it can hurt her. Watch how another woman touches her, the way Angela should be touched, the way touching should be in a healthy relationship.

“Yes, but come, I want you to fix that,” she says lasciviously, and she grabs Fareeha by the wrist and pulls her away.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: There's going to be more to this story. I've got some other one shots lined up. Let me know what ya think.


End file.
